


Heart it Races

by Castaelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Build, blind!cas, eventual NSFW, longfic, uh, um, what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castaelle/pseuds/Castaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a car accident that took both of his parents, Castiel Novak lost his sight. It was devastating, but he got by with the help of his brother and by taking up playing the guitar as a hobby. Oddly, he has a natural talent for it, and plays at local gigs near the college he attends. One night, a man that attends a class with Cas bumps into him—literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart it Races

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh this fic was not all my doing. the lovely katie (simplystargazing.tumblr.com) has helped me with the plot a lot. not only that, but she awesome and beautiful and gah i love her so much she is my favorite human being 
> 
> so yeah um first published fic wow
> 
> also the song in this fic is heart it races by dr dog. not the architecture in helsinki version. kat thought i meant the arch in helsk version at first (which led to a lot of confusion) but no. that is not what cas is singing. dr dog version thank.
> 
> also i'm on tumblr. satansprostate.tumblr.com holla

The pounding of the drums, the slow badum-badump beat filled Castiel’s ears, his head. It drowned out the din of the chattering crowd until the coughs and murmurs of the people below faded out into the mere fuzz of background noise. The beating of the drum grounded him. It flowed through his bones like liquefied marrow down his spine, through his heels, and into the ground. Still, nothing could compare to the feeling he got when he began strumming. Castiel didn’t use a pick, and yeah, it gave him blisters more often than not, but truth be told, he couldn't be at peace unless he could feel the vibrations flowing through him from the fingertip of one hand to the other.

No, Cas couldn’t see the music happening, but damn, he could feel it. His hands began moving without any thought directing them. At the strings of a guitar, his hands were at home. Castiel used the baited rhythm of his breaths to time the motion of his fingers. In the beginning of his experiences with the guitar, his hands were clumsy, blundering around in his dark world without direction. Now, they moved with perfect conviction. Cas didn't have to think, he just did.

After the first few chords, the drum's rhythm changed, and the second guitarist picked up. Castiel's cue. He drew in a silent breath, bracing himself. He straightened his already-rigid back; his nerves gripped him like a set of iron claws at his windpipe. Castiel took a moment to clear his throat before his voice rang out clear and sharp. The speakers set around the front of the stage echoed voice back to him. Hell, it almost sounded like he knew what he was doing.

 _"_ _And we're slow to acknowledge the knots in our laces, heart it races."_

Castiel closed his eyes as he sang, thoughts drifting, wondering why he had his eyes open in the first place. Ever since the accident, he'd kept his sightless eyes open out of habit and just never got around to finding a way to get used to keeping them closed like a normal blind person did. Stupid.

 _"_ _And we go back to where we moved out, to the places, heart it races."_  

Slowly, Castiel fell into the rest of the song with ease. As soon as he got past the first few lines, his stage-fright melted away. It was always difficult at first. He couldn't see the faces of the crowd, so it was impossible to tell from their expressions whether they liked him or not. It made Cas feel naked to be bearing all into a microphone in front of an audience that he had no way to read.

 _"_ _I bought it in a can and stirred it with my fingers, singin'_ boom da da da da, boom da da da _, I threw it out the window. Lately you've been tan, suspicious for the winter, with your_ boom da da da da boom da da da, _legs like little splinters."_

He stood on a lone ship, teetering precariously above the demanding waves of the crowd's desires below. But after settling into the rhythm of the song, the guitar's vibrations became his eyes. His fluid voice became his mind. The sounding drumbeat became his heart. The music became his body and soul, and the people below the stage became his family. With a guitar in hand and his hot lips pressing into the cool metal of a microphone, Castiel was home.

_"I sold it to a man and threw him out that window. He went boom da da da da , boom da da da , made his wife a widow."_

Quicker than he had anticipated, their song drew to a close. All of the momentum that he had been building up, he let loose in the final chorus. The instruments ceased their play, and Castiel's voice was lone but packed. Cas felt all of the emotion belt past his trembling lips, flying out into the night, filling the quiet air.

_“Heart it races alone, heart it races alone, heart it races alone—”_

When the song ended, Cas found himself panting heavily. He stepped back from the microphone to catch his breath. A moment of silence stretched the air thin for a few beats after the end on the song, and Castiel cringed. As soon as the thoughts of _“Oh god, they didn’t like me, they didn’t like me, theydidnotlikeme”_   rushed through his head, they were banished by the cacophony of claps that exploded from the crowd below. Normally, he didn’t get quite the response. Probably this time, it was just that Cas was playing with a band that was well-known locally. Castiel let out a relieved sigh and chuckled to himself before stepping back to the microphone. "Thank you, goodnight," he breathed into it in a voice that he knew betrayed the goofy grin stretching his flushed cheeks. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand smack down on his shoulder and heard a familiar voice in his ear.

"Time to go, Cas. Midterms tomorrow, remember?" Cas’ brother, Gabriel, must have hopped up on the stage like he always did to guide Cas down the steps.

Castiel pulled back, frowning. "Come on, Gabriel, let’s have a few drinks," he said, lifting his guitar over his head.

Gabriel sighed, taking Cas’ guitar and putting it in its case. "No, you’re not going to be hungover and fail your tests because you’ve been up all night drinking. I have midterms tomorrow, too. We both need sleep. Let’s go."

Castiel huffed a sigh, this one out of frustration. "Normally, it’s the other way around, with you begging me to go out drinking with you on weekdays."

"Big day tomorrow. I have a responsibility towards you.”

Cas shook his head. “Whatever.” Gabriel’s warm hand slipped in his, and he began pulling Cas to the steps that led off of the stage.

"Stairs," Gabriel breathed by means of warning when Cas’ feet reached the drop. Castiel glided smoothly down the steps. It was about ten years ago that he lost his sight. Being a musician, he _had_   to get used to getting on and off stages after spending so long stumbling around in the dark. Gabriel towed Cas towards the door. However, not ten steps into their trek, Castiel crashed into a body. A warm, firm body, but still, nonetheless a body of a person that probably thought ill of Cas for running into him.

"Sorry, sorry," Castiel rushed out, the blush deepening on his cheeks. "What the hell, Gabriel?," Cas asked when they were out of earshot of the person he ran in to. "You’re leading me around so that  _that_ won’t happen."

"I did it on purpose," Gabriel said, his tone smug.

"What?"

"That guy was probably the finest person I’ve ever seen. I saw him a couple times at a class of yours when I drop you off at the classroom. He’s eying you every time I see him."

"Are you trying to set me up?"

"Maybe."

"Gabriel, statistically speaking, you have to be wrong most of the time when you think a guy is interested in me _just because you think it so damn often_ and there are not that many gay guys in the world." But, as they made their way out of the door, Cas continued, "So, what does he look like?" 


End file.
